


I Don't Wike It

by innusiq



Category: Captain America (Movies), Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innusiq/pseuds/innusiq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a little ficlet taking place during Chris's downtime in Boston between the end of filming "Avengers:  Age of Ultron" and the beginning of the subsequent promotional circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Wike It

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably going to Hell in a hand basket for this one, but I needed to write it. It's influenced by my own relationship with my "favorite" nephew, because seriously, we all have a favorite.

It’s been a month since he returned home to Boston. It’s been a month of not having to set the alarm for early wake-up calls, a month of not having to face endless working hours that while fulfilling were utterly exhausting and emotionally draining, a month of near anonymity which is exactly what he needed after far too many overly scheduled days of filming demands, and thankfully he still has a few more months of the same restful peace to look forward to. God he loves being back in Boston with his family. He loves the nostalgia returning to his childhood home brings, touching the same walls he did when he was knee high, walking down the same hallway he and his brother and sisters used to chase each other through (getting yelled at in the process), and all the photo frames gracing the walls and fireplace mantel that not only document his family's past but also the future that came after graduations and weddings and Hollywood. He loves having a place he can still retreat to, a place of _safety_ that is away from the prying eyes of paparazzi and fans and the hustle of a life he loves and appreciates, but also needs to get away from all the same now and again. He can't imagine a life that didn't involve high profile movie roles, and too probing interview questions, and running into fans at local drug stores clamoring to snap a picture with a movie star, but there are some moments, when spending time here in Boston, detoxing so-to-speak, that Chris may think about what his life might have been if it didn't involve all the Hollywood hubbub. 

Chris is distracted from his mind's early morning wanderings when he hears the not so much pounding but definitely more than patter of thirty pounds of three-year-old energy preceding the not so quiet opening and requisite slamming of his childhood bedroom door. The resonating sound of the door closing is followed by a warning scold from downstairs, and while he may not clearly hear the words being shouted up the stairs, he's got a general idea of what's transpired. The bed dips at the corner by his feet under the slight weight of his nephew, who’s crawling up the twin bed (which is barely big enough for Chris alone) and squirms below the covers next to him. Chris can't help grinning to himself, sympathizing with both sides of the morning battle that is more common than not on the days his sister drops her kids off for the day, but being honest with himself that he's more partial to his nephew's point of view.

"Hey, Buddy," Chris greets sleepily, scooting around onto his side to accommodate the added body.

"Shhhhhh," Miles hushes, burrowing against Chris and pulling the covers down overhead. "Hiding."

Chris chuckles and yawns, hand settling on the lump hidden under blanket, offering comfort with the knowledge Miles is giving his family a hard time this morning, but the three-year-old probably feeling it being more the other way around. If ten years ago anyone would have asked how much his life would change if kids were added to the mix, he probably would have laughed and said, _Fuck, man, I'm barely an adult. How am I supposed to know?_ It was the truth then, because at twenty-three and barely a career to speak of under his belt, kids where the farthest from Chris's mind. Even five years ago, being a bit removed from his old _home life_ back in Boston and having to be told over the phone of his new role of _Uncle_ upon the birth of his first nephew, it wasn’t until after his first visit back to Boston, holding the small, sleeping bundle of pink skin and scrunched face that even he couldn't fathom a hospital letting anyone take home let alone his sister and brother-in-law, that Chris's heart melted for the first time. It was only then that a switch flipped and he knew, he just knew then, that someday this would be something his life wouldn’t be complete without. The fact he's faced meeting another new nephew and niece over the last couple years, each first moment and every time he returns home to visit with his family, he is always amazed by the feeling of love that continues to grow and how it hasn’t been so much trying to find a place to fit the kids in as much as them filling the blank spaces that had been waiting for each and every one.

"Chris, have you seen..." 

His sister is barely in the door before he silences her with a finger against his lips and a wink.

She clears her throat, a stern look towards her brother and the _lump_ , she knowing the soft spot he holds for her middle child. "Well, if you're up, you might as well join us for breakfast."

"Mmmm, what's on Cafe Evans menu today?" He asks with a huge grin, remembering many a morning of pancakes and eggs and bacon, which were some of the best meals shared in the Evans home, not for the food but more having his parents and brother and sisters all together at the same time when there wasn’t work or school activities keeping one or more of them away... Okay, and admittedly it was the food as well because dear Lord their mother could cook.

"I wouldn't get too excited there, brother," she replies, arms crossing against her chest and a warning look directed at him. "Mom was out early this morning. The offering is quick and easy oatmeal."

Chris groans and pouts, closing his eyes and sympathizing with the boy hiding at his side. "Oh man… I don't..."

There's a giggle from the blankets that is not helping either of their cases.

"Don't even say it," she warns. "That is breakfast, and that is what we are _all_ having. You might as well get up and get it over with. Maybe be a little encouraging for the more impressionable ones in the house."

The brow raise she bestows reminds Chris too much of their mom, and he has the grace to at least feel a little guilty over his immature response, but only a little, because really? Oatmeal?

"Yes _Mom_ ," he drawls out teasingly.

"Just get dressed and come join the rest of the family for breakfast," she says. "Bring your mini-me along too. You know it's better hot than cold."

Chris groans, displeased, as he drops his head back down to his pillow. He has eaten his fair share of oatmeal in his lifetime, and while it’s not the most disgusting thing he’s had to eat, it's definitely far from a favorite of his, unless it's accompanied by fruit, or maple syrup, or even better... Making a decision, Chris joins his nephew under the covers.

"He Bud, you hungry?"

It's dark under the blanket, but the morning sun filtering through his bedroom curtains and the blanket itself gives enough light to make out his nephew's slight nod.

"But I don't wike oatmeaw," Miles pouts.

"I know, Buddy, but you gotta eat it. It's the only way you are gonna grow up to be big and strong..."

"Wike you, Uncwe Chwis?"

Chris uncovers the both of them, blushing a bit as he levers himself up to lean on his elbow and smile down at his secretly (or not so secretly as Scott claims) favorite nephew. Chris is well aware that to everyone else on the planet (outside his family), he’s known for the muscle bulk his more recent movie role demands, but he can’t help shaking the _little guy_ he used to be, not like Steve Rogers little, but just your average Joe who most wouldn’t give a second glance to passing on the street. He thanks his family for keeping him grounded in that most days, and embraces the time off he gets where the weight room and fitness regime is the farthest from his mind.

“Nah, I’m just your Uncle Chris, ain’t nothing any more special about me than you or your Daddy or your big brother or Uncle Scotty,” he says, mussing up Miles’s hair and getting a smile in return. “So, if you are going to get big and be just like us, you gotta eat.”

Miles crawls around to sit up next to Chris, appraising Chris and his words and probably looking for the weak link in his plan, but Chris knows what the kid is thinking, Hell he’s been there and done that and pities his sister (only a little) for ending up with a kid just like him, and he’s got a backup plan. His sister may not like the backup plan, but if he can get Miles to eat his oatmeal, the end result is a win-win regardless.

“Do you wike oatmeaw?”

Chris sits up and pulls Miles into his lap. “I’ll be honest with you, Kiddo, I don’t like it but I know I have to eat it because it’s good for me.” 

He watches Miles’s face light up and deflate in quick succession, heart melting along with the boy’s emotions.

“But I’ll tell you a little secret,” Chris adds, leaning in to whisper in Miles’s ear. “If we add some chocolate chips, it will be just like eating cookies.”

Chris pulls back and has to fight at reining in the laugh that wants to escape at the disbelieving yet hopeful wide eyes staring up at him. “Weawy?”

“Really,” Chris assures, kissing the top of Miles’s head. “Ready?”

Miles nods enthusiastically, scrambling out of Chris’s lap and off the bed. “Wace you!”

His nephew is out the door (left wide open without a care), feet bound down the stairs while giggles taunt Chris as the small boy races downstairs before Chris has even swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Laughing to himself, Chris is reminded again of how much he loves his life, and more importantly his family. If he were asked again how his life would change if kids were added to the mix, in all honesty his answer today wouldn’t be any clearer than it was ten years ago. On one hand, he feels ready to take on the role of _Dad_ , but on the other he doesn’t know how his own brood of kids would fit into the life he’s come to know. Logically he understands it’s not as if he’d wake up one day and have to figure out how to juggle feedings and diaper changes, play dates and making sure he has time to be the Dad he wants to be, but it’s a big, _big_ step and he still has time to figure it all out. After all, if the other _Avengers_ can juggle the same Hollywood demands and maintain their private family life, it can’t be all that difficult. When the time is right, when all the pieces of his life finally fall into place, it will happen, he knows it, it’s just a matter of being patient, making the most of his life and loving the family he does have now.


End file.
